


Domestic Bliss

by Queerasil



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ACD Canon References, Bad Romance, Case Fic, Codependency, Dysfunctional Relationships, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, Submissiveness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 09:35:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2383493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queerasil/pseuds/Queerasil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being in a relationship with Sherlock isn't all it's cracked up to be.<br/>Or, How John and Sherlock come together isn't <i> nearly <i> as interesting as how they fall apart.</i></i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Issue of Intimacy

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a story that explored the codependency and (sort of) abusive nature of John/Sherlock's relationship. This is something I hope to accomplish here. 
> 
> Probably going to be around 20 chapters when finished.

“DATA, DATA, DATA,” Sherlock growled, banging the his phone impetuously against his desktop. John sighed, covering his ears and burying his head into a pillow. “I cannot make bricks without clay! This is absolutely ridiculous. How does he expect me to get anywhere with this?” Sherlock threw his phone at John, expecting him to catch it, but instead it thumped uselessly to the floor. 

John only buried his head further into the pillow and groaned. Sherlock had been going on like this for the past three-days, and his arrogant attitude had lost any inkling of charm it once had. 

Sherlock leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, tapped his foot against the ground, and waited for John to say something. 

Oh my god, John thought. This is never going to end. We are never going to get any sleep. Sitting up, John straightened his tousled hair and spoke as diplomatically as possible. “Look, why don’t I just call your brother and ask him what the text means?”

Sherlock frowned and bit his lip. “It’s more important than that.” 

John rolled his eyes. Of course it was. Of course this, of all things, was the most important thing in existence. Obviously. John chastised himself for not seeing it before.  
Sherlock stood up abruptly and walked over to John. Sherlock towered over the sitting man, and looked down at him with a menacing glare. “You know what I mean,” he said, before going trotting off to their (formally his) room.

As for options, there were only several things he could do to deal with the inevitable hell Sherlock was about to bring to Baker Street: (1) He could play along with Sherlock game until the detective (inevitably) got bored; (2) He could ignore Sherlock and go downstairs and watch telly with Mrs. H, but that wasn’t exactly what’s typically categorized as ‘good boyfriend behavior’; and (3) He could attempt to distract Sherlock with… other things. John was at a complete loss for what to do. 

Groaning, John reached for Sherlock’s phone, which was still lying uselessly on the carpet. Picking it up, he stared at the lock screen for a few seconds before realizing he didn’t know the code. 

_ _ _ _

John stared listlessly at the screen. I don’t know the code. I don’t know Sherlock’s – my boyfriend’s code! There was never a code before, John thought. But that was different. That was before the Fall. Sherlock’s already palpable paranoia had only grown since his return from what he pompously termed ‘The Great Hiatus’. Apparently, it had gotten to the point where Sherlock even kept secrets from John, his closest and more compassionate confidante. 

Honestly, John didn’t know whether or not to be offended by this. Sherlock had always been secretive on some level, and it was perfectly natural for him to be experiencing some… discomfort from his time away. 

Perfectly normal, John reassured himself, knowing it wasn’t true. 

John took Sherlock’s phone and walked off to their bedroom with a determined spring in his step. He was going to ask Sherlock about the code and he was going to find out what the code was. John Watson had a plan. Not a good plan, mind you, but a plan.

John knocked on the door before he entered. (A nasty habit; especially considering it was his bedroom.) Knowing that it was weird, he stood there and waited for Sherlock’s signal to enter.

“Come in,” Sherlock finally said, after what seemed like much too long. Gathering his last bit of courage, John stepped inside the door. 

Sherlock was standing by the window in the pale moon light, shirtless. John suddenly blushed, feeling quite like a teenage girl at the sight of his boyfriend. _(Oh my god, this is ridiculous. You are dating. I’m never going to get used to being gay, am I?) ___

__Clearing his throat, John spoke. “You forgot your phone.”_ _

__“I know.” Sherlock pulled a white tee-shit over his head, and John was partially grateful for it. How was he supposed to have a serious, commanding presence when his boyfriend was half-naked in front of him? “Thanks.” He took the phone, slipping it into the pocket of his dressing gown._ _

__Cautiously, John persisted. “I see that you’ve got a code, is that –“_ _

__Sherlock groaned dramatically, making a big show of letting his lead fall back and his arms stretch out. “It’s nothing personal, John.”_ _

__“I know –“_ _

__“Then why do you ask?”_ _

__“Well…” John scratched the back of his neck, feeling incredibly awkward. “It feels personal.”_ _

__Sherlock frowned. He stretched out his arms and gestured for John to come to him. John did, and Sherlock pulled him close to his chest. John fit perfectly against Sherlock, like they were made for each other. Two pieces of a puzzle, clicking together perfecting. Physically, they literally completed each other. Mentally, on the other hand…_ _

__“Come on.” Sherlock pulled away, and his eyes flickered to the bed. “Let’s go to bed.”_ _

__..._ _

__‘Going to bed’ was a lot less sexy than John would’ve liked it to be._ _

__Yeah, being in the same bed as Sherlock was great and everything, but John couldn’t help feeling that the intimacy part of the intimacy was missing. They barely kissed, and rarely touched. Occasionally, Sherlock would brush against John in his sleep and John would feel a rare moment of tenderness in his heart. That nearly never happened naturally, and John didn’t feel comfortable instigating it himself._ _

__For the moment, he and Sherlock were in a relationship-statement. An emotional free-for-all, and a physical plateau. John hated it. He wanted to go to the next level. (Whatever the hell that was in Sherlock’s case. Normally, it would be sex. For Sherlock, it would probably be something milder like making out or sharing phone passwords.)_ _

__

__

__In the morning, John woke up, and Sherlock was already out in the kitchen making breakfast. John followed the smell of slightly burnt bacon to the table and ate gratefully._ _

__“I didn’t catch anything on fire this morning,” Sherlock declared proudly, and John smiled. “Do you want to see the text Mycroft sent me?”_ _

__John nodded, hoping Sherlock would give him the phone and tell him the passcode. Instead, Sherlock typed in the passcode himself under the table and handed the unlocked phone to John._ _

__John tried not to look disappointed as he read._ _

___QR.243.13.4220. ASAP. – MH ____ _

____John furrowed his brow in confusion. “Well, it’s just nonsense. It doesn’t mean anything.”_ _ _ _

____“Yes, but Mycroft doesn’t type nonsense, does he?”_ _ _ _

____John supposed he had a point there. “Has he sent you anything else?”_ _ _ _

____“No. That’s all. And he won’t reply to me either, bloody git.”_ _ _ _

____“Maybe he’s in trouble.”_ _ _ _

____Sherlock shook his head as he bit into a piece of bacon. He talked while he chewed, “Called Greg. Said he’s fine. Just a bit tired, that’s all.”_ _ _ _

____“Ah.” John stared at the text a few more times, as if the answer would just magically reveal itself. “Any ideas?”_ _ _ _

____“How am I supposed to have any ideas? It’s gibberish!”_ _ _ _

____John looked at it again. It looked strangely familiar. “Could be a code? Phone number? GPS or coordinates or something?”_ _ _ _

____“Nope. All evidence points towards gibberish.” Sherlock suddenly pretended to be very interested in his bacon, therefore ending the conversation._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____The rest of the day passed incredibly slowly. John almost missed the monotony of his work at the clinic; at least he was helping people there._ _ _ _

____The last week had been bad; no crimes had been committed. (Well, at least, no interesting crimes.) Sherlock had resulted to scraping the proverbial bottom of the bowl by researching cold cases. He particularily wrapped up in a serial killer called ‘The Silver Blade’ when John made him go out for a walk._ _ _ _

____“You’ll like it,” John promised, knowing he wouldn’t._ _ _ _

____Sherlock grunted in response and threw on his coat dramatically._ _ _ _

____Dragging Sherlock behind him on the pavement, John led the way._ _ _ _

____“See?” John gestured to a semi-interesting tree on the side of the street. “Isn’t it interesting?”_ _ _ _

____Sherlock gave him only a brief, sidelong glance. “I suppose. If you’re into trees.”_ _ _ _

____John stifled a sigh. “Can you at least pretend to enjoy spending time with me?”_ _ _ _

____“I do enjoy spending time with you.”_ _ _ _

____“Only when I’m interesting,” John countered._ _ _ _

____Sherlock stopped walking and just stared at him. “You’re always interesting.”_ _ _ _

____John nearly rolled his eyes. “Right. Sure I am.” John carried on in his head, I’m much more interesting than a random set of numbers or a dead body. Yeah, sure._ _ _ _

____“Yes. You are. I don’t know why you insist you’re not. You’ve got plenty of…” Sherlock ran his eyes up and down John’s body, apparently looking for whatever John had plenty of._ _ _ _

____“Yeah. Exactly.”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____“What if it’s a reference to something?”_ _ _ _

____Sherlock stirred slightly, lifting his head up from under his arm and gaping at John. “What’s what?”_ _ _ _

____John poked uselessly at his noodles; he was rubbish with using chopsticks. “The numbers Mycroft sent you.”_ _ _ _

____Sherlock considered this for a moment before turning over again away from John. “A reference to what?”_ _ _ _

____“I don’t know… something, maybe.” John started to panic slightly, knowing Sherlock might shoot him down. “It’s worth checking out, isn’t it?”_ _ _ _

____Sherlock supposed it was. Of course, he wasn’t going to tell John that. He stayed silent and burrowed his head farther into the pillow._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____ _ _

____John was brushing his teeth when he got another idea. He ran into the bedroom, where Sherlock was typing away on his phone._ _ _ _

____John was practically bouncing up and down with excitement. “What if it’s a book code? Like the ones the smugglers used?”_ _ _ _

____Sherlock didn’t even look up at him. He just continued staring intensely at his phone._ _ _ _

____“Sherlock, are you listening to me?” Sherlock obviously wasn’t._ _ _ _

____“Of course.” Putting away his phone, Sherlock reached out to turn out the light and plunged the bedroom into darkness. “Now, come to bed.”_ _ _ _

____..._ _ _ _


	2. Duality

“Never seen anything quite like this before,” Sherlock mumbled.

John looked up. His flatmate was standing at the window, staring out into the street and rubbing his chin. “What?” John asked, because he honestly couldn’t see what could be so amazingly unique out the bloody window.

“Come look.” Sherlock stepped aside and pulled the curtain back further as John approached him. 

John looked. “It’s just a cyclist,” John observed. 

“What else?”

“Um…” What’s so special about a bloody cyclist? “He’s alone?”

“Good. Anything else?”

“Not –“

“Who does he look like?”

John squinted. The cyclist’s face was obscured by a yellow helmet. “Can’t see his face.” 

Sherlock grinned. “Exactly.” Turning around, collapsed to the ground and began rummaging through pieces of paper. “But if you did…” he muttered, finally pulling out what he was looking for. It was a photograph of a man who looked nearly identical to him. “He’d look like me.”

John took the photograph in his hand and stared at it for a good long while. The man in question was almost identical to Sherlock. The same everything, accept for his hair, which was ginger. “It looks like you.”

“It practically is me!” Sherlock slapped the photo, looking utterly disgusted at the man in question. 

“Do you know him?” Perhaps Sherlock had an odd, cyclist, ginger-haired twin?

“No. Of course not.” Sherlock snatched the photo back and tossed it back down onto the pile of papers on the ground. “But he does know us?”

John’s mind instantly jumped to dozens of different possibilities; each one dangerous. “Who is he? Stalker? Assassin? Nin—“

“Client,” Sherlock concluded. “Don’t be so dramatic, John.”

John frowned. Given the amount of danger living with Sherlock entailed, he didn’t think it was particularily reasonable to be worried. “Should we invite him up?”

“I should think so.” Sherlock stared at him. When it became evident John wasn’t going to move, he grabbed him lightly by the shoulder and shoved him gently towards the door. “Off you pop.”

...

“So you two have never met before?”

Both men shook their heads in unison. John couldn’t help wondering if one of them was a clone in the other. 

“And… You’re not from a parallel dimension? Not a twin? Not an evil twin?” 

The Sherlock-Double – whose name was actually Jason Woodley – laughed. “No.” His voice was identical to Sherlock’s. “But I’ve always been a fan of his blog.”

Sherlock didn’t look surprised. In fact, he was starting to look slightly bored. Leaning forward to the edge of his chair, he asked, “What brings you here today, Mr. Woodley? Clearly you have something you need our help with.”

Jason launched into some story about how he was being stalked by a man with a twisted lip, but John wasn’t listening. He was too busy staring at the man, unable to look over just how much it looked like Sherlock. But there was so much difference between the two men. While Sherlock was cold and calculating, Jason seemed to be kind and considerate. It was odd for John, seeing kind words come out of Sherlock’s mouth. It was odd (and slightly disturbing) for Sherlock too. 

Sherlock solved Jason’s case in less than ten-minutes. It was simple, really. So simple that John didn’t even bother paying attention. His thoughts were completely focused on Jason – nice, kind, polite, identical-to-Sherlock Jason…

John stopped those thoughts at once. 

But still the thoughts lingered on inside his head. The idea that he could be with Sherlock while not being with Sherlock. 

But it wouldn’t be Sherlock. It wouldn’t be Sherlock’s intelligence, or his tendency to cause chaos, or his brilliant, eccentric, annoying-as-all-hell attitude. 

In the end, he chose Sherlock. In the end, he would always chose Sherlock. 

...

“Were you attracted to him?”

'Well, that was random', John thought. He stopped running his fingers through Sherlock’s hair at once. “What makes you say that?”

Sherlock gave him a look that said, You know exactly why I’d say that. 

John sighed, turning over and putting his weight on his elbows. Unable to meet Sherlock’s eyes, he asked, “Because he looked just like you?”

Sherlock nodded slowly and turned his head towards the bedroom window; pretending to be very interested in the London rooftops outside. 

“I wasn’t…” John trailed off, knowing Sherlock was no longer listening. “Fine. Don’t know why you’d ask if you already knew.” 

Sherlock stayed silent. John flopped over, burying his head in the sheets. Tonight, he was determined to get some sleep. 

Several hours later, Sherlock finally spoke. “Is it because we haven’t had sex yet?”

John was still awake. Knowing that he wasn’t going to get any sleep that night anyway, he finally spoke. “No. I don’t mind that.”

“Why? That’s what people do, isn’t it? Have sex?”

“Yes, of course they do, but we aren’t regular people.”

“No,” Sherlock frowned. “We’re not.”

Things only got more awkward as the night went on. 

“Jason was interested in you,” Sherlock randomly said. John pretended to be asleep, and Sherlock continued, “Slight dilation of the pupils, flushed cheeks. He angled his boy towards you; probably reads your blog as well. Fanboy then. A very eager fanboy too, judging by his –“

“Just. Stop.” John groaned. “I don’t want to know.”

Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from speaking again. 

…

John had a medical convention in Hampstead for the day. He forgot to tell Sherlock. Chaos ensued.

...

Sherlock woke up to find his bed empty. 

Naturally, he assumed the worst. Kidnappers, killers, stalkers, ninjas – surely, some villain, evil beyond all comprehension had taken John. Or worse, John had left of his own accord. Sherlock worried that maybe something he did had driven John away. 

Beginning to panic, Sherlock searched the flat frantically, interrogated Mrs. Hudson and the neighbors, went by Angelo’s, contacted Mycroft, and finally dropped by Scotland Yard.

...

Ironically enough, John was listening to a lecture on codependency when he got the call from Greg.

Stepping out of the auditorium, John answered.

“John? Good. Are you alive?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Good. Sherlock’s been bloody worried about you.”

Needless to say John was very, very surprised. “Why? Did – Oh,” John realized. “I forgot to tell him about the conference, didn’t I?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“Tell him I’m fine, please. Just…” John trailed off, his meaning clear. 

“Of course. But John…”

“Yeah?”

“Best head back early.”

John sighed and hung up his phone. This was going to be a long day.

...

“I thought you just carried on talking while I was away?”

Sherlock stared at him blankly; completely devoid of all the pesky emotions such as anxiety and fear that had plagued him hours ago. “That was before. This is now.” 

John searched Sherlock’s face for any bit of emotion, but found none. He felt a bit hurt by that. “Before…?”

Sherlock said nothing, which made his meaning abundantly clear. 

“Oh,” John realized. “Before… your time away?”

Sherlock nodded and sipped his tea, attempting to end the conversation. 

John carried on. “You worried about me?”

Sherlock scoffed. “Knew you were fine. Really was just checking.”

John smiled. “You were worried.”

“You left at your phone at the flat. It was a perfectly sound deduction to make that you –“

“That I was clumsy. I’m clumsy, Sherlock. And human.”

“A dangerous and common combination.”

“I’m not common.”

“No, but you are dangerous,” Sherlock smirked. 

They both knew that was true. Cautiously, John persisted. “Did you miss me while you were away?”

“Nah,” Sherlock said flippantly. 

John hoped he was lying. 

Luckily, he was. “Course I did.” Sherlock raised his teacup in the air as a mock-toast to John. “I’d be lost without my blogger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Ginger!Batch, 'Orphan Black', and 'Clone'.  
> Tried to cram as many ACD canon references as I could into this chapter. Think I did a fine job.


End file.
